


Not Fear, but Panic. Chaos.

by SatansDuck



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, It's legit just a drabble about severus, Nightmares, PTSD, Panic Attacks, The other three are only mentioned - Freeform, forced vomiting tw, self harm tw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 15:19:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14023083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SatansDuck/pseuds/SatansDuck
Summary: Severus waits for it to pass.





	Not Fear, but Panic. Chaos.

**Author's Note:**

> Seriously, trigger warning for self harm and forced vomiting (as in Severus forces himself to vomit). Panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares, ptsd, and angst all around. Sad stuff guys. No comfort. I'm sorry!

Severus’ silhouette could be seen in the small bedroom, sitting up in bed, blanketed by darkness as he waited.

 

Unsurprisingly, the nightmares had continuously gotten worse since the Dark Lord’s return. Since young - oh so young - Mr. Diggory’s death, the appearance of Peter Pettigrew, and the near-death experience of Mr. Potter. Since Severus’ return to the Dark Lord’s side, as the faithful slave he was. The slave he would have to be. 

It is not that he feared the torture or punishments he would surely receive from the Dark Lord, Severus had long become used to the prospect of pain and humiliation. He did not feel fear, but panic. Chaos. A mess lay inside of his chest, like a ball of spinning wire that did nothing but spin faster and faster the harder he tried to stop it. Faster and faster it went, the wires slicing through his muscle, tissues, his flesh and organs. They kept cutting until they sprouted from his body, twining around him and holding him captive in the cloud of painful chaos. It only made the nightmares worse - or did the nightmares make it worse? - and created long, exhausting nights for the man.

He often wondered if he had changed anything to Lily. If, wherever she had gone, if anywhere, he had earned her forgiveness yet. He also wondered if it mattered at that point. He could not turn back or change the past. Thinking that he would never be forgiven gave him a special sort of pain in his chest - one that mixed with guilt and regret and seeped into the wires, only making them sharper and longer - and he loathed to think of it as fact. He could not ignore how likely the idea was, however. After such nightmares, ones filled with what he’s done and what he’ll have to do, those thoughts grew in size and influence. He could not bring himself to cry - it simply took too much energy - but he could distract himself. He could scratch his arms, his legs, hit his head against the headboard of his bed and deny himself access to the bathroom, water, and food for as long as humanly possible without going too far - soiling himself, in the bathroom’s case. He could bite his lips and tongue until he bled and force himself to throw up. He had options to choose from when it came to hiding from such thoughts.

And again, Sirius Black was back. Remus Lupin and Sirius Black were back together and away at Grimmauld Place, ready to help the Order in any way they could. On one hand, it was good to have the extra manpower. And yet the idea, the pure thought, of having them back as friends and allies, loved and adored by all, made him sick. Nauseous. The more he thought of Black, the sicker he felt, the more his head hurt, the faster he panted and the tenser his muscles became until his very soul collapsed in on itself and the ball of wires exploded out from his chest, ripping him apart. 

 

Black, the Dark Lord, the thoughts, the danger, and the nightmares were all back.

 

And so, Severus waited for it to pass, as he did every night.


End file.
